


Covet Thy Neighbor

by mindninjax



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bible Scriptures, Church Sex, F/M, Mention of Sex Worker, Oral Sex, Sacrilege, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:02:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28979331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindninjax/pseuds/mindninjax
Summary: Your mother has asked Father Zeke to pray for you and save your salacious soul. He obliges and seeks to educate you about sin.
Relationships: Zeke Yeager & Reader, Zeke Yeager/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 56





	Covet Thy Neighbor

**Author's Note:**

> Oof ok second work here. This was born of a drunken idea and then screaming about it with my best friend online so s/o to her and her brilliant mind. I'm not entirely sure why this was living in my drunk headspace but it was and I'm glad to get it out. Also side note I am going to move a lot of my works from tumblr here as well so there might be a huge dump of content here when I finally get the time to move them here lol.

You’re not a bad girl. Misguided maybe, but not _bad._ Father Zeke doesn’t sense _evil_ in you. You’re not like the other girls you run around with and he knows that. It’s why he indulged your poor mother when she came to speak to him and ask if he could talk some sense into you. 

She was worried about you, afraid your scandalous behavior, your skimpy clothing, your sinful activities would cast you into the fires of hell. She claimed you used to be her sweet little angel, intelligent, creative, on the right track before puberty hit. And after high school when you went away to college, you’d come home on the first break a completely different person. 

Father Zeke consoled her, rubbed a huge hand down her back as she cried in his office over the loss of her daughter’s soul. He’d assured her he’d kept an eye on her sweet daughter, prayed to God about her and knew exactly what to do to help. It was not too late. 

“Do not cry my child. _I_ can save her with the strength of the Lord and his words in my heart. I promise you, your daughter’s soul _will_ be saved,” he said, smiling gently to her. She’d cried more at his words, thanking him profusely before telling him she would have you come to see him tomorrow morning before the service. 

You arrive, 7am on the dot and the Father is impressed with your punctuality. When you enter his office in your skimpy low cut shirt and even shorter skirt he raises his eyebrows in what seems to be disapproval. The smirk on your face as you sit in the chair across from him is wicked, full of lust. 

“So, my mother says you can cure my ‘salacious demons’,” you say, putting the last two words in air quotes with your slender painted fingers. Your voice rings out in his office, girlish, feminine, a lure into a perilous trap. 

“There’s nothing to cure, child. You just lack the information needed to achieve your greatness. You need to be set upon the right path, and I intend to show you,” he says, smiling warmly at you behind his desk. 

You scoff at him, watching him twiddle his thumbs together before folding them neatly on his desk. 

“Right, you’re here to lecture me on lust when you can’t even control your own,” you say, smiling defiantly at him and leaning forward onto his desk. Your breasts perk up, the plump cleavage peeking out over your shirt. 

Zeke’s eyes momentarily rest there before moving back up to your eyes. So you are as intelligent as your mother bragged, intelligent and _observant._ He drums his fingers against the wood of the desk, adjusts his circle lenses as he watches your tongue flick across the dip in your top lip. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, a light sweat breaking out over his brow. He knows what you’re doing, and you’re doing it _well._

“You want to _fuck_ me, don’t you Father?” you say grinning up at him and pushing your breasts more into his line of sight. He blinks, swallows again and flexes his hand under the desk in a fist. 

He sends quick thanks to the Lord for sending you to him and allowing him to use you as the example he needs. The Church has always been big about making examples out of sinners. A sinner practices witchcraft and is burned at the stake for their crimes to ensure all who follow know their fate and eternal punishment. This will be no different. 

“Come with me child,” he says, standing and motioning for you to walk through the narrow door to the sanctuary. He opens the door for you, inhales the scent of your spicy perfume, one he’s sure he’s smelled on the hookers he “prayed” over and ensured their souls would be saved if they did everything he told them too, for _no charge of course._

The sanctuary is filled with the smoky incense of the prayer candles lit by the altar boys earlier this morning. The glorious morning sun shines down through the beautiful stained glass windows and illuminates your lovely soft skin as it drinks in the colors. Father Zeke watches as the light shimmers in your hair, twinkles on your eyelashes as you bat them at him in flirtatious fun. 

He only smiles as he leads you to the altar, a chaste hand at the small of your back. It’s riddled with ornate gold candles and a goblet that holds the wine for this morning’s sermon. Right above is a cross with Jesus’s tortured expression peering down on the two of you. You oblige in this silly ruse, wanting to call both he and your mother out on their bullshit. There’s nothing wrong with you. You like to dress sexy and have sex, no big deal. No magic water or blessed oil put on your forehead will change that. 

“Kneel,” he says gently and you do so. He pulls a goblet holding oil and dips a finger into the sticky mixture. He stands in front of you, draws a cross in the middle of your forehead, and recites a verse.

_Do not desire her beauty in your heart,_

_Nor let her capture you with her eyelids._

_For on account of a harlot one is reduced to a loaf of bread,_

_And an adulteress hunts for the precious life_.- Proverbs 6:25-29

You smile up at him through your lashes and stick out your tongue before purring, “Well this is the perfect position for a blow job, Father. Are you thinking about me sucking you off? Right in front of Jesus? You should be ashamed.”

“None of us are without sin.”

His words catch you off guard and before you know it, his cassock is unzipped and his cock is up and weeping with precum. It’s _pretty_ , you have to admit, nothing like the inexperienced, disgusting frat boys at your college you’ve hooked up with. The length and thickness make your mouth water and his neatly shaven blonde pubes are a sight to behold. There are two prominent veins on the underside you want to run your tongue against and the tip is pink and flushed. 

He grabs a fist full of your hair and puts his dick to your lips. You part your lips automatically and welcome it in, flattening your tongue and dropping your jaw to accommodate for the sheer amount of mass entering your mouth. He groans at first contact, fisting your hair and peering down at the lovely sight below him. 

He’s more than halfway into your mouth, down your throat and you aren’t gagging. _So much sin,_ he thinks to himself. But this will save you, he’s sure of it. When your eyelashes flutter as if to tell him to keep going, he pushes father into your mouth, deeper down your throat, and you both moan at the same time. 

You push yourself farther, deep throating him in all your glory and making your nose meet his coarse blonde pubes. Your eyes have started to water but you’re breathing through your nose and flexing your throat around him. You’re a natural, a pro, and it is not what he expected. 

You pull back off of him, suctioning your lips at the very tip so hard that there’s an audible pop when you release his tip. You smile up at him, an “I told you” expression on your face that annoys him only a little. He tries to keep his profound tone from earlier as he recites another verse, but the groan of pleasure he let out moments ago has erased it.

 _But I discipline my body and make it my slave, so that, after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified._ -1 Corinthians 9:2

He grabs your hair again and plunges you back down on his dick. He places both huge hands on your cheeks, tucks his thumbs underneath your chin to angle you appropriately and fucks your face. Your sweet moans and his grunts in between scriptures he’s citing to you are tangled in a web as confusing as the one he’s weaving currently between the two of you. 

Your throat is heaven sent; he convinces himself God would not have made your throat feel this good wrapped around his cock if he were not _meant_ to use it for this occasion. He will do this task, recite the scripture, and in the end you’ll be reborn, brand new without your sin. 

“Oh my lord I thank you for this woman, your child of god, “ he groans out as he feels you tighten your lips around him. He recites another verse when he hears you _finally_ gag as he thrusts particularly deep down your gullet:

 _For the time already past is sufficient for you to have carried out the desire of the Gentiles, having pursued a course of sensuality, lusts, drunkenness, carousing, drinking parties and abominable idolatries_.- 1 Peter 4:3

You’re doing well at maneuvering and adjusting to the speed in which he fucks you. You flatten your tongue at just the right moments when he thrusts for it to feel the best for him, and you suction your cheeks in when pulls out, almost as if you don’t want him to leave. A feral grunt pushes from deep within when you reach up to fondle and massage his balls. You can hear him swear to himself and then mutter, “Father forgive me,” before propelling his hips faster against your nose. You know he’s close and doesn’t plan on coming on your face as you assumed. 

Good. 

Let him cum down your throat. You’ll swallow every bit so when you talk to your mother later that evening, you’ll tell her, “It worked! I’m cured.” She’ll never know. You reach to grab a handful of the Father’s ass and hold him as his last few thrusts get sloppier. He grunts between words of the last scripture he’s trying to recite to you. 

_“Now …flee from…youthful lusts and… uh.. I’m going to come..pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, w-with… th..those who call on the… Lord from… a…pure…heart!_ ” -2 Timothy 2:22

He releases sticky white cum down your throat to punctuate his scripture, a cry of ecstasy breaking from his lips. You swallow all of it, even as it feels like it will never end. The funky saltiness rushes down your throat and when it’s all gone, you open your mouth to show the Father your achievement. He pants, eyes wide as you stand, wipe your mouth and eyes, and sashay away from the altar, hips switch seductively before looking over your shoulder and saying, “Thanks Father, I think I’m cured.”

Father Zeke understands now; this isn’t just a one time lesson. He understands what the Lord is doing, why he made it that his cock is still _quite_ hard and aching for more of you. He knows now, this isn’t just one lesson. No, this is a lesson he will have to continuously teach you, sin he will continuously have to take away from you. Father Zeke grins to himself as he zips his cassock and prepares for the morning sermon. He can’t wait until it’s time to get rid of your sin _again._

**Author's Note:**

> Haha! the note at the end is just that you're amazing and you should have an amazing day today! Oh! and drink some water baybeeeee.


End file.
